


Script for DAY 6: HOMELESS DEMOGRAPHIC - Google Docs

by orphan_account



Series: glitch.exe [5]
Category: Me - Fandom, i am the fandom, undertale???
Genre: Drugs, F/M, Gangs, Gen, Homeless Shelters, Homelessness, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Script Format, This Is STUPID, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, genderfluid folk, is accompanied by voiced recordings, luana's point of view, mentions a bunch of other characters, mentions of magic, this is actually my finals project, this is really long, transgender folk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 16:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11017374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This is mainly original with influences and inspiration from fandoms-- I think if you look at it hard enough, you should be able to find the influences, though.





	Script for DAY 6: HOMELESS DEMOGRAPHIC - Google Docs

**Author's Note:**

> This is mainly original with influences and inspiration from fandoms-- I think if you look at it hard enough, you should be able to find the influences, though.

DAY 6 OF HOMELESSNESS: A DEMOGRAPHIC  
WRITTEN AND VOICED BY: HILLARY MAC, SMITH

‘HOMELESS DEMOGRAPHIC INTRODUCTION’  
MORNING

LUANA: So, the call last night went better than initially expected! My boyfriend has assured me that he doesn’t want to break up, and that he loves me very much. You know what else? He’s finally toning down on the jobs!

LUANA: And since he’s been saving up his salaries ever since we got on the streets, we now have roughly a hundred dollars. I think he got a promotion. Half of this money looks like it was donated or stolen. I gave him this disbelieving look when he told me the number, and then he dropped all the money onto this plastic, foldable table they had in their room and he counted it all in front of me. He waved the bills and coins around in front of my face too.

LUANA: He’s inherited my snark. I’m so proud of my boy.

LUANA: I asked him where the extra fifty came from, because last time we checked, it was two days ago and we had fifty dollars. He told me that he didn’t steal anything nor did anyone give him anything, but I’m pretty sure he probably sold some things to the guys around the shelter.

LUANA: Okay, I’m really sure that he sold some things to the shelter.

LUANA: I asked him where his sweater went, because he was wearing a different T-shirt. It had blue stripes on a gray backdrop, with black crowns around the edge.

LUANA: Anyways, for breakfast I decided to get the cereal. I managed to eat half the bowl they gave us before feeling like I was bloated up. I tried to distract Daemon and Angelina from the way I decided to leave my soggy Cheerios in the milk, but they had these knowing looks on their faces like they knew that I wasn’t really full.

LUANA: I went to the restroom, but I had to wait. Someone else was inside of the restroom. I had to wait and rested against the wall for a few minutes-- I felt like something was bubbling up in my gut and rising up to my esophagus as I waited. It was panicking. Panic arose as what felt like fifteen minutes passed. I nearly sprinted into the restroom when it was open. I didn’t really memorize the facial expression of the person who came out of the restroom or recognize them, but I do remember long, thick braids pulled into a ponytail and lots of piercings. I think they were wearing a winter jacket, because there was thick leather, fur lining and a lot of pockets. There was also a red sweater-- it looked woolen and hand-made, but by whom-- I have no idea. It was oddly the same color as Angelina’s scarf.

LUANA: I only registered the color as the same as Angelina’s in the back of my head during that time, my main priority at the time to use the restroom. I probably looked sick, green around the gills as some would say. They must have been surprised or disgusted when they saw me.

LUANA: After what felt like an hour in that restroom, the tile digging into my knees, I finally managed to throw up everything that I ate and managed to keep inside of me for the last few days. I felt my stomach begin to churn again as I stared down at the mixed results-- I could see half dissolved carrots, mashed potatoes from dinner, and the cheerios from my breakfast.

LUANA: The feeling it left behind in my gut made me want to puke again, ahah.

LUANA: After sitting there, staring at the edge of toilet seat, puking out what would be the contents of what I would have used for energy-- I felt despair. It was only when I was stumbling towards the sink and noticed my empty expression that I found the salty tears running down my face. Burning bile still clawed at my throat and every time I breathed heavily, I was gasping for clean air. All I could smell were my own stomach acids in the toilet. I hadn’t flushed it just yet, too feverish to have a mind of my own.

LUANA: It felt like something had possessed me. My mother had told me all sorts of things about voodoo and jumbi. I would have chased off the evil spirit with rice and salt had I the chance to, without seeming like a crazy person. I wanted to stay in the shelter.

LUANA: I, really, didn’t have any plan to get out of the shelter-- I didn’t know what to do, at all.

LUANA: Staring at my reflection, the scent of that bile slowly sinking into the white tile, I contemplated the effects of a broken mirror, as well as my disappearance from this faculty. If I leave, will Daemon and Angelina miss me?

LUANA: What of my boyfriend-- will he ever return home? How long has he been homeless?

LUANA: … Did he ever even have a real home?

 

HOMELESS DEMOGRAPHIC  
AFTERNOON

LUANA: Daemon slid a note under the door of the restroom with a smiley face on it, saying, ‘Take as much time as needed-- Angelina and I will be in class. If you need us, leave a sticky note on our door.’ She wrote the note in a blue, sparkly gel pen, while a little stack of bright, lime green sticky notes were slapped onto the white paper. It looked like she ripped it off of her homework or something.

LUANA: Taking the note to heart, I stayed in the restroom for what felt like another hour. The feeling of something moving around and growing in my stomach never left, not even when someone knocked on the door and with a low, gravely voice, yelled for me to get out.

LUANA: It probably was an hour, now that I think about it. I had blacked out halfway, my surroundings disappearing into blurs, before I woke up again to the loud sound of a ‘bam bam bam’ on the door. I rubbed my cheek as I struggled to stand up. It was then that someone-- that same person from before busted in, and stood above my prone form. I still smelled like puke-- the toilet was flushed though, so someone had to have come in and flushed it for me or I forgot I did.

LUANA: They looked down at me with this all-loathing look in their eyes. Like they hated everything. For some reason, in the odd yellow lighting of the restroom, their eyes looked red. The same red as that scarf, that sweater, that blotch of red from my dreams.

LUANA: I was hallucinating, I’m sure.

LUANA: My legs felt like air and my arms weren’t there at all. My neck didn’t work, no matter how much I tensed and untensed my muscles. The stranger stood there, as we stared each other in the eyes, wondering what the other would do. The stranger was tense, their eyes never leaving me. But they also seemed a bit paranoid of the door behind them, like they were waiting for someone else to come in and get them.

LUANA: I wondered if they were hiding in here too, before they opened their mouth, and with a wrinkle and a scrunch of their nose, they told me it stank in here. I squinted at them from the floor and they scoffed, before picking me up.

LUANA: Or-- tried to, for five minutes.

LUANA: We ended up both sitting on the floor for a while, my limp form propped up against a wall. I paid no mind the the spider crawling along the far wall, and instead continued our odd staring contest. I didn’t know anything else to do-- and I couldn’t do anything else.

LUANA: They seemed to be perturbed by my endless looks and ended the staring after a while, snapping at me. We both seemed not to want to go outside of the restroom. Otherwise, I’m sure they would have left--perhaps they had bullies here, or someone polite enough to leave someone in the bathroom was chasing them.

LUANA: It seems ridiculous, but I am too dizzy to think clearly.

LUANA: After a bit of awkward silence, they finally spoke up. I have no idea what I was doing just sitting there and staring but I wanted so badly to ask them why they were inside the restroom. Perhaps they needed to actually use it unlike me.

LUANA: The conversation goes as follows-- like an interrogation, I answer questions while they toss ‘em at me.

LUANA: First, they asked me how old I was, and I answered with a mumble they couldn’t understand. They firmly told me to speak up, so I did, clearing my throat and telling them in a raspy voice that I was sixteen, to which they raised their eyebrows at.

LUANA: I don’t look very young.

LUANA: They then asked me why I was puking into the toilet. I told them about my condition-- the anorexia, the bullying, my past with bullies-- everything, and by the end of it all, my eyes were sweating again. The dried up tear tracks were wet all over again, and we ended up trading little experiences and relatable things.

LUANA: I learned their name-- they called themselves Red, and they looked a bit like Cardinal. I asked them if they were related to them, but they gave me a vague answer and changed the subject very swiftly. I noticed how they started to fidget and I decided to let up.

LUANA: There were bags under their eyes-- dark enough to be like holes in the flickering yellow lights. Their eyes weren’t red, as I had originally thought-- they were brown, reddish-brown. A bit like dried up blood. The thought made me cringe a bit, but it was true.

LUANA: Their hair had little metal ornaments clasped around the thin braids. There were many of them, some of them golden. I wondered if they were real gold-- maybe even family antiques or something. I knew that if someone had something that valuable and they were kicked out onto the streets, they’d probably sell it, if not for sentimental value.

LUANA: I was asked more questions after we had a brief talk about fights on the streets.

LUANA: In the end, I gained the name ‘pansy’, ‘Hawaiian girl’, ‘bean’ and also a tentative new friend.

 

HOMELESS DEMOGRAPHIC  
NIGHT

Night came, and so did more dreams. I skipped dinner today, hiding in bed, curled up in a ball. My stomach was thunder, the sweat on my temples as I tried to ignore the clenching pain in my gut; rain. My hands were cold and clammy, and no matter how cold the covers were or how much the air conditioner blew into my face, I still sweated like a dog.

There were no more lies to hide behind, no more vague excuses.

They-- Daemon and Angelina-- would find me. I don’t know if the pain will come back, but it had been hitting me in waves, sloshing around and drowning me under a sense of being burnt to crisps.

I eventually managed to fall asleep-- I can only remember the sounds of clicking boots on tile towards the door again, before I black out as the door opens.

When I find myself in the empty, white hallway again, I am alive. Happy. Glowing with joy. My namesake-- I am content.

But something is so off. I have more clues now, more pieces to put together. I want to know more.

So instead of staying among the grayed out friends in the dream, I find a way out. I excuse myself, smiling and saying that I’ll go to the bathroom. Some of them look worried-- as if I’ve told them about how I puke in the toilet often. A person I don’t know puts a hand on their arm to keep them from trying to stop me and nods towards me.

They trust me. And since they seem to know about my condition-- I must trust them, right?

I don’t understand why.

So I walk-- and eventually run down the hallways, to where I can find a clock. Mounted on the wall, just before the doors of the cafeteria, is a large analog clock. It has glowing red numbers.

When I reach it, it says that the time is 4:00. Exactly four. I wait a few minutes for it to change, but it stays frozen. I have a feeling of foreboding, dread, like something big is looming over my shoulders and I just don’t know it, but I don’t want to turn around and see. I’m scared at this news.

I begin to sprint away from whatever is behind me. I hear crashes and screams and pleas-- names are shrieked. It was like a horror movie, and I was the one running from the monsters. There were slithering noises, like a big snake was chasing after me in the hallways. As I ran, and ran and ran and ran--

I eventually found myself running in the dark. It was so empty I could no longer see where I was going-- but I didn’t stop. I wanted to, god-- my lungs were on fire, they were ablaze, and if trees surrounded them they would begin a forest fire-- but this was a dream, it had to be--

I knew it was a dream, but I still ran.

I don’t know why I kept on running-- maybe it was the fear, charging me up like a bull after a bull clown.

But I do know that when I finally emerged from that nightmare, falling onto the ground-- I found myself looking up at the ceiling of the room I shared with my four other roommates, and looking down at me was Cardinal again. They had the same red gleam-- but it was so dark, and I was so dizzy and tired.

I think someone drugged my food-- but before I could mumble a greeting towards them, something hit my head. I don’t remember what else happened, but Cardinal says that I just suddenly went limp after the nightmare.

I couldn’t see their facial expression in the night, and that’s what scares me the most. The possibilities.


End file.
